Work Text:
Work was just a thing he’d do. No matter how exhausted, sleep-deprived, sick he was. Could I really get sick, Vox asked himself emptying his seventh cup of the day. The sun has almost risen, but he wouldn't know. The light in his control room was cold and artificial and never went out. He ran his eyes across the glowing screens.
“Sir? You have a meeting about Vitbit Inspire 3 in 10 minutes,” the assistant’s voice rang with caution. “Do you need anything?”
“No, that will be—,“ Vox paused. “Get me a cup of coffee to the meeting room.”
With the corner of his eye he caught the employee lower his eyesight and try to hide the shock in his face. Unbelievable. Eight coffees is not such a big deal? He’ll have to remember to fire that ungrateful sinner, right after he gets his coffee.
“Thank you all for coming today. The topic of our meeting will be the brand-new Vitbit Inspire 3, the most powerful, synergistic, fashionable way of keeping fit money can buy!” Vox’s hands were shaking as he took a big gulp of his fresh cup of joe. After an awkward, lengthy pause, he resumed, “Amelia here will present the newest features of our product.”
The sinner, whose name was not Amelia, stepped up shyly to the projector screen and started her dissertation. Vox’s head was slipping off of the hand he’d propped it on.
Suddenly, there was a loud crash and all the eyes turned to him. The investors sat in panicked silence, not sure how to react. Vox was laying headfirst on the table, the empty cup teetering at the edge.
The sound brought Vox back to consciousness. “Sorry,” he murmured, caught off-guard. Clearing his throat, he said loudly, “Please, do continue.”
The assistant continued as shame churned in his gut. Why was he like this today? Or, more accurately, in the recent months? He stared at the presenter circling some numbers in a red pen, his eyes unseeing. He shook his head and reached for the cup. It was empty. Fuck.
He glanced at the presentation, the empty cup, the presentation again. Maybe that was it? Could it be his lifestyle was to blame for how shitty he’s been doing recently?
Slide after slide, the demon was promising an array benefits to the users of Vitbit Inspire 3 and a hefty profit margin to the investors. Visions of fitness, being a paragon of health, flashed before Vox’s eyes. The product could use a beta-tester anyway. Who better to vouch for the technology than the CEO of the company?
Having concluded the meeting, never mentioning his indisposition ever again, Vox made his way straight to the tech labs. The Vitbit Inspire 3 was simple, yet elegant. The square screen was attached to a sleek black band, complete with a signature cyan lifeline through it. It rested comfortably on his skinny wrist. He didn’t stick around to hear what the employees had to say, pairing the device to his phone and leaving the room in haste. He just had to talk Valentino’s ear off about his new watch, this new lifestyle journey he was about to embark on.
The next day he snapped the Vitbit Inspire 3 on and went about his day. The morning was filled with meetings, the watch kept buzzing at his wrist, demanding a sacrifice of physical activity every hour or so. Good thing they don’t run on blood, Vox thought to himself. He eyed the device with irritation as he repeatedly lost his train of thought while talking.
After lunch, he got to his personal work. Hours and hours of screens filled his afternoon. He didn’t know if his eyes could really get dry, but they did burn by the end of the workday. He stood up from his chair and stretched to the sound of his part human, part machine spine crackling. He put down his 11th coffee of the day and looked at Vitbit Inspire 3.
It showed exactly 327 steps. Three fucking hundred twenty and seven steps he took today. Vox knew he wasn’t exactly the sporty type, but having the number shoved in front of his strained eyes really shook him. Things had to change, and he’d make sure of that.
The next day the alarm rang out a cheerful melody. Slowly opening his eyes, Vox sat up and stretched out his sore neck. The sun was just rising, the clock showed four in the morning. The perfect time to show that fucking piece of shit watch for whom fitness is just a hobby, and for whom—a lifestyle.
Bright and early, Vox grabbed his—thoughtfully prepared the night before—gym bag and hailed the elevator to get to his personal gym. Standing in front of the door, waiting for the cabin to arrive, he realized this was a perfect opportunity to take the stairs and get some extra steps in.
The doors to the stair shaft creaked ominously as he pushed them open. He waved his arms for a good minute before the motion sensors switched the lights on. Who let the fire escape route fall into such disrepair? What if they were in real danger? Someone was going to get fired for this. Maybe Amelia, that bitch, Vox thought to himself. His huffs and puffs echoed the staircase as he held onto the railing, slowly making his way up.
Finally, the gym room welcomed him with its smooth steel and plastic, a promise of an elegant, sleek workout experience. Or it would, had everything not been covered with a viscous layer of dust. “Hope this shit won’t clog up my exhaust ports,” he murmured to himself as he ran a finger across the squat rack on his way to the locker rooms. He changed quickly and hopped onto a treadmill.
A could of dust rose from the equipment, the gears squeaked ominously as he tapped the speed button. The conveyor belt rolled faster and faster as Vox’s sneakers roused clouds of dust from the brand new machine.
After what felt like forever, Vox looked at the dashboard. He’d been running for five minutes now, and his efforts to establish a steady pace were so far futile. The fans in his head and body wheezed pathetically, much louder than the AC in the room. He felt every part of his metal-reinforced frame ache, like if it had just been taken apart and didn’t fit back together well.
Still, he pushed through the pain and discomfort. At 37 minutes, he slipped and fell off the treadmill with a loud thud. His head was spinning as he laid back on the floor. He wasn’t going to give up this easy.
An hour later Vox had tried out a bunch of machines, from the rower to the squat rack, and was as sore as ever—in his life or afterlife. Shuffling his feet, he took a shower and allowed himself a smile at the good workout.
The workday was unbearable. The sore muscles haunted him, making thinking difficult and every sitting and standing position uncomfortable. He tried to hide the grins of pain from the employees and the investors. Valentino looked at him weird, but didn’t say anything. Papermint has graciously moved all his less important meetings and at 19, Vox fell headfirst into his bed and passed out on the spot.
The morning rolled around faster than he had anticipated. At four sharp, the alarm wailed as Vox felt around for the snooze button, eyes closed, face down on his pillow. Having grabbed the clock, he remembered it was the proprietary VoxTek alarm with no snooze function. He rolled off his bed, pain searing through every inch of his body, and turned off the devil’s contraption. I need to cancel this whole fucking line, he made a note to himself for later.
The climb up the stairs proved even more arduous today, his muscles screaming at him in unison at such blatant abuse. The treadmill sped up so quickly from a standstill that he slipped and fell before he even started running.
He felt for his screen, a web of tiny cracks spread from a corner. Fuck. He jumped back on the machine, hit the ground running this time.
Having managed 30 minutes of running, which felt like absolute forever, Vox approached the squat rack, wiping sweat off of his screen with a VoxTek towel. The barbell pushed him into the floor, but he wasn’t going to give up this easy. The Vbit Inspire 3 mockingly flashed 200 calories at him.
A loud thud of the weight rolled through the empty room as Vox got completely crushed by the barbell he tried to lift. It was too heavy for him to even crawl out from under it. Rethinking his life choices, he laid trapped for a few minutes, until Velvette called him.
“Yeah, no, I’m okay, darling. No need to worry about me.”
“Vox are you fucking crushed by somethin’? You look proper shite.”
Vox laughed bitterly. “Thanks,” he hung up on Vel’s annoyed face.
He sighed and attempted to crawl out once more. Every part of his body screamed at him to stop, but eventually, he made it out.
“Fucking stupid fucking shi—,“ he started swearing, but held his tongue when the kick he landed on the barbell hurt him more than it hurt the barbell. “Out with this shit equipment, I want it all fucking gone,” he mailed Papermint immediately.
The shower left Vox feeling dizzy and lightheaded, and a whole day was still ahead of him. He straightened out his antennae and glanced at Vbit Inspire 3 while feeling his legs might give out on him anytime. On his way to the office, he met Val.
“Voxxy, where’ve you been? I’m never seeing you anymore baby,” Valentino said, half-concern, half-flirt.
“I’m busy testing one of our new products. I don’t have time for this shit, I need to be in a meeting in five.”
Val stopped him, putting a hand on his chest. “We’re having some fried chimken with Vel tonight, wanna join us? I’ll be cooking,” he winked at Vox.
“Fried chimken? You have any idea how many calories that shit is? It’s like, calories with calories on top of calories. No, I’m having some… delicious… kale salad… let me… go!”
Vox’s desperate attempts at freeing himself from Val’s grip proved futile. “Val!”
“You look like shit Voxxy, let me just—“
A sizzle of electricity was all that remained of Vox. He teleported directly to the meeting room, mourning the lost steps he could have taken.
Straightening out his suit jacket, he tried making peace with another busy workday he was about to get thrown into. He was hungry, and it was gonna be a few good hours until his first meal of the day. The scientists now say it’s healthy, so who was he to disagree? A pencil broke in his grasp as his resolve to get fit strengthened.
The alarm went off, chiming like its’ battery life was about to end. Another day searching for the snooze button, another day doing the grind. Vox punched the clock off and rolled off the bed.
He was frozen, sure that his muscles all but stopped working. He lay petrified for a few minutes. With a sigh, he tried wiggling his big toe. It worked.
Not only did a shooting pain go through him as he tried to get to his knees, but a series of crackling noises alarmed Vox to the condition his body was in. Condition he decided to ignore. Groaning, he grabbed his gym bag and started up the stairs.
Vox was in the staircase when a high-pitched sound started from Vbit Inspire 3. He whacked at the watch to make it stop, but when that didn’t work, he decided to read the actual message it displayed.
TRY RIGHT
The Vbit Inspire 3 was, as a matter of fact, not programmed to do much aside from offer exercise and health insights. It most certainly wasn’t meant to give out cryptic messages and uncalled for directions. Could it be that Vox’s prototype was enhanced with the unfinished AI model? Could it be that there was a bug in the code? Could it be that Vbit Inspire 3 was just plain cursed?
The ringing grew louder and louder and no amount of ministrations with the watch or the band made the problem go away. Desperate to make the device shut the fuck up, Vox decided to give into its demands.
The door on the right creaked under Vox’s feeble attempts at pushing it open. After a moment of struggle he managed to pry it open.
He took a look around the room—tiles on every surface, a throwback pastel color palette in the dim light. The room had one purpose, located in the center. It was a pool room.
Vbit Inspire 3 quieted down and started showing an array of colorful shapes on the screen. Vox stepped into the room, uncertain. He had no memory of this place, and his recall was total. Did someone build this room and never tell him? Was it a magical place that didn’t exist until he opened that door today? Nonsense.
Dropping the gym bag, Vox decided to make the most out of this discovery. The water was surprisingly warm, the smell of chlorine overwhelming as he dipped a hand in. It couldn’t hurt to take a few laps before he proceeded to the gym room, right?
The clothes lay discarded in a pile in a corner as Vox, wearing only his boxers, carefully stepped down the pool steps. We’ll see just how waterproof this cursed watch is, he thought to himself.
Many people thought Vox, as a tech-head, was prone to getting damaged, waterlogged, electrocuted even, when he’d come into contact with water. Many people thought wrong.
Vox was a demon first and foremost, and as such, did not adhere to the same type of logical physics that electronic devices did. His flesh was blood and wire and coolant, his brain a gruesome mix of matter and motherboard. Curious by nature, he had to know for sure. A self-autopsy was a very definitive way to see what makes him tick.
The water felt amazing on his skin. The slight friction of the liquid provided a pleasant retreat from the horrors of gravity, Vox’s greatest enemy at the treadmill. Taking a deep breath, Vox explored the deep end of the pool. The tiles had distinct retro patterns on them. The water looked quite otherworldly in the low, cyan light. He resurfaced reluctantly and looked around. The only sound was the soft lapping of water against the edges of the pool.
A certain kind of serenity settled into Vox’s heart as he swam laps in the mysterious pool room. His mind wandered off, his thoughts slowed down, breathing became regular and controlled. It’s been a long time since Vox felt this good, at ease, focused. It was almost meditative.
A squeak of the door startled Vox when he resurfaced. He looked at the person at the door and choked on air trying to call out.
A wave of exhaustion washed over Vox. Quickly losing his balance, he struggled to catch a breath. He was quickly going under, water filled his lungs. The whole world went dark.
The light came back, low and electric blue. There was a repeated pressure on his chest, lips on his own. Everything was blurry, a puddle of water felt cold underneath him. Slowly, he came to.
“Vox! Vox, can you hear me?!”
“I—“ he managed before he had to cough out water. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
His chest was hurting with a radiating, piercing pain. “Did I almost fucking drown?” He looked at Valentino as he slowly sat up, a familiar hand supporting his back.
“Yeah, you fucking scared me to second-death you idiot.” It could be the lack of oxygen, but Vox thought he saw tears in Valentino’s eyes. “Don’t ever do that again,” he said, offended.
Two sets of arms wrapped around Vox, he coughed out some more chlorine. “You hear me? Are you gonna be okay?”
“Y-yeah I’m fine,” Vox managed. He looked at his wrist and the realization hit him. “Where’s my Vbit Inspire 3?”
“What?”
“The watch, the watch I fucking had on my hand! I bet my workout data’s all messed up now…”
“Babe, you nearly fucking drowned, and some stupid watch is the first fucking thing on your mind?!”
“You don’t understand, it’s… it’s an important research project,” Vox turned his face away, shaking and cold. “I need it, and I need it now.” He grabbed his head, pulsating with a throbbing pain.
Val rolled his eyes and sighed loudly, “Wait, I think it might be somewhere around here. There it is. Happy now?”
Vox inspected Vbit Inspire 3 closely. It was clear that it was beyond saving—there was a deep crack running through the screen, the knobs on the side stopped turning, and the glass display was waterlogged and pixelated.
“No, nonononono—“ Vox grasped the watch tightly and shook it in a desperate bid to un-break it. His stomach was churning, he felt like death.
“I’m sorry, Voxxy. We’ll get you a new one. Maybe one that won’t make you drown even.” Valentino’s attempt at humor fell on deaf ears.
“But what about my progress, how will I sync the—“
“Babe,” his lover grabbed him firmly by the arms, bringing him out of his daze. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you—I mean, it’s just a stupid watch and some numbers, c’mon…” He traced a gentle finger along Vox’s display, “You’re the CEO of VoxTek, you’re perfection and nothing is gonna change that.”
“Yea of course I fucking am.”
Val lit up at the anger in Vox’s voice. Clearing his throat, he said, “Listen to me closely now. Have you eaten anything today?”
“N-no, not yet. I have a low-carb breakfast ready in my fridge.”
“None of that bullshit. You almost died, again, you need to fucking eat something that will bring you back. And I have just the thing.” He gently massaged Vox’s chest, the warmth felt good. Vox didn’t notice how cold he’d gotten.
“And what would that be?”
The breakfast was avocado toast, prepared right in their kitchen by none other than Val. “Isn’t that much better than that shit you were supposed to have?”
Vox looked away. “Yeah.” He couldn’t look at the smirk on Valentino’s face.
“So anyway, I—me and Vel, that is—we’ve been a bit worried with how—“
“Yeah, I know you would.”
“Don’t you think you’re overdoing it a little?”
“You don’t understand. My step count was 300 steps one day. Three fucking hundred steps. That’s like nothing.”
“Look, darling, I know it’s tempting to go all out, but this crap ain’t working. You look like shit.”
“Fucking thanks,” Vox grumbled out.
“Look, babe, I just want what’s best for you. Don’t you think you’re supposed to feel good while being fit?”
“Well yea,” Vox shot back.
“And do you feel good after near-drowning now?”
Thoughts of the torturous mornings came back to Vox. He did feel like shit, all the time. He looked like shit. What was the point? Some stupid fucking numbers on a screen? He shook his head.
The avocado toast was delicious. After a long silence, he finally spoke up. “Yea, it’s a shit watch anyway. Cursed as fuck.”
A wide, self-satisfied smile beamed on Valentino’s face. “Told ya.”
“But that pool room is quite something,” Vox said.
“Yeah, I’ve never seen it before. Very weird,” Val drew circles on the table with a finger.
“I forgot swimming felt so good,” Vox said quietly. “As long as I’m not wearing a cursed fucking armband.”
Valentino leaned over and kissed his face. “I’ll book us a beach holiday today.”
“No way, there’s so many meetings I need—“
“Fuck the meetings. You’ve earned a break, babe.”
Vox sighed. Sometimes it was good you couldn’t argue with Valentino. He coughed up some more water. They laughed the morning through, together.